


Revelations

by ThePiesEndure



Series: Fallen Angel Vignettes [1]
Category: Australian Rules Football RPF, Collingwood Football Club
Genre: Gen, fallen angelverse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-16
Updated: 2014-08-16
Packaged: 2018-02-13 10:22:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2147139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThePiesEndure/pseuds/ThePiesEndure





	Revelations

Everyone calls me a ‘mummy’s boy’, but they don’t know anything.  There’s nothing wrong with living at home with the fam.  It takes the pressure off having to worry about where one’s gonna park their arse at the end of a long day.  At any rate, there’s a reason why I still live at home.

Most of the guys in the team josh me for being at home at twenty-three.  But, fuck it.  They can think that.  They don’t know what’s really going on.  The media give me shit about being managed by my dad as well.  But, even that’s got nothing to do with anything.  They crap on about how I should be able to stand on my own two feet and control my own footy life.  And, y’know they drag Ablett and all those other father/son types into it.  But, they don’t have a clue. 

They. Do. Not. Understand.

But, here’s where I lay it all out. This is my official statement. The truth is coming out today.  Right here.  Right now.

Okay, that sounded gayer than I meant it too. 

Anyway, before I really start two things.

Jason.  And Cameron.

I love my brothers to death.  Seriously.  That’s something a man doesn’t admit much, hey?  But, seriously, growing up with them… they’re not the tools people think they are.  I blame my dad’s influence for that.  People just twist everything and don’t stop to think about what’s really going on. 

I love my dad too.  He’s a great man.  Was bit of an alright footballer too.  But, he doesn’t control my life.  Only I do.  He manages me, because that’s what I want.  Not the other way round.  Not because I don’t think anyone else could do the job, but because it’s a biological imperative.  Not even because of the fact that he’s my father.  In fact it’s really because he isn’t. My mum’s my mum, though…

Okay, I guess I should explain that.

You’ve seen my ink?  Most people would’ve.  It’s pretty boss.  Most people don’t know the significance though; the amount of rude comments I’ve received from people I meet is kinda crazy.  But, to me it’s very important.  It marks me.  Sets me apart.  I don’t mean that in an arrogant, ‘I’m the shit’ kind of way.  Even though, that’s another thing people call me.  Arrogant.  But maybe that’s just me being overconfident.  I know it pisses people off.  I don’t mean to do that if that’s the case…so…sorry to all those guys I’ve bent out of shape. 

Back to the ink, though.  What I’m about to tell you is kinda embarrassing, and you’ll probably laugh at me or tell me I should be put in a funny farm.  But, this is true.  It’s no bullshit. 

Here goes nothing. 

I’m not human.

Yeah, guess I’ll let you process that for a moment.

 

                                                            * * * * *

 

You alright with that, now?

Good.  So, anyway.  I’m not human.  I look it, but only because my kind…we are of a similar make up.  I guess He wasn’t all that creative when it came to actually building both our kinds. 

What am I? 

I’m an otherworldly being, bow down to me….

Hah, that’s not even funny.  Sorry.

I’m an angel.  You know one of those guys with white robes and white wings, bigger than a goose’s back.

Okay, that’s a lie.  The robe bit.  And the wings bit, sort of.  They’re not white.  Mine are black with white edges.  So, I guess it’s kind of fitting I’m a Pie boy.  I’m a magpie angel.

That’s really lame.  I should quit now. 

But, that’s actually why I even play for Collingwood.  Aside from the fact that the old pater was an old boy.  I mean that whole father/son draft thing…on one level that’s why I play for them, but there’s another reason.  A higher purpose. 

Okay, that’s a bit soft.  But, really.  It’s the truth. 

This is why my dad manages me.  This is why I still live at home.  It’s not technically home, but while I’m doing what I was created to do…I have to have a home base.  Somewhere I can stay protected from people who wouldn’t understand. 

Y’know?  That’d be the biggest scoop of the year wouldn’t it?  I can see the headlines…

_Big Man Cloke, is he even a Man?_

Yeah, not something I want happening.

So.  What is it that I do?  Well, that’s a whole other story.  But, we can start with the personal lives of those who call the Collingwood Football Club their family.  There’s a lot of personalities make up the team, the staff, the support crew…and they all have stories to tell.  All have their issues.  My job is to watch over them and make sure that in the end they live happy fulfilled lives, whatever that may amount to. 

It goes further than just them as well.  My speciality, I guess you could call it, are kids who’re in foster homes.  They’re what I focus on, outside the club.  I mean, as a club we often do things like benefits and stuff, so, it’s not a far cry for me to go and do that, find out who’s out there needing guidance, and a little hope injected into their lives.

Yes, I know…it probably brings to mind the old age, clichéd idea of the Guardian Angel.  And, I gotta say it’s not too far from the truth.  But, most Guardian angels are an individual thing.  I’m the ‘guardian’ of a whole slew of people.  More a sentinel than anything.

Oh, which reminds me.  Some people think I’m not that sharp.  Y’know, what with letting my dad manage me, and, the way I talk, like some uneducated buffoon... But, I’m actually pretty damn smart.  If anyone wanted to, I could seriously have a discussion on philosophy, or even religion.  But, no one knows that I’m well-versed in that kind of thing, and I prefer to keep my yap shut, ‘cause most guys would rib me for it.  ‘Cause it’s that kind of culture, round here.  Or at least those who don’t particularly like the club would say that was the culture. 

Most of the guys are actually pretty intelligent.  Our captain, Nick Maxwell, he’d be Prime Minister sometime in the future.  Presti’s going to be a stockbroker when he retires.  Dane Swan…he’ll probably go into fashion designing…

Okay, I’d say that was gayer than my last statement, but… he’s a lot sharper than me when it comes to fashion.  Then again my best suit _is_ actually white, and it never stains…but it’s not cool.  So not cool. 

Who else?  Well, I could go on forever, but you get the idea of what I’m trying to say?  We’re not all toothless and brainless.  Oh, wait…that’s what they say about our supporters.  Well, the naysayers don’t know crap about those people.  I do.  I know almost everything, actually. 

Yeah, not boasting.  It’s not actually all that fun knowing all there is about people.  ‘Cause you have the good things, and the bad things.  I don’t get to choose.  I can’t filter out all the shit, and leave the rainbows and gems, y’know?  It doesn’t work like that at all.  It gets pretty heavy sometimes.  This huge weight on my shoulders.  But, that’s what the footballs for.  Playing the game, training, hanging with the guys.  It gets me thinking on other things than just the everyday worries about every individual that passes my sphere of influence. 

But, I wouldn’t trade any of what I go through, for anything else.  I have to say, I’m proud of what I’ve accomplished, and what I hope to keep accomplishing. 

The football will come and go; every player has a use by date.  But, the whole guardian angel thing…that’s a forever thing. 

So, yeah.  That’s what I wanted to tell you all.  Straight from the horse’s mouth, so to speak.  No one else can tell you any of this.  No one else would get it right. 

This is who I am.

Travis Cloke.  Collingwood Football player.  Sentinel.  Angel. 

Nothing more.

Nothing less.  


End file.
